


Sleepwalking

by takizawa



Category: Tokyo Ghoul
Genre: Cannibalism, Child Death, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-14
Updated: 2014-11-14
Packaged: 2018-02-25 08:04:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2614403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/takizawa/pseuds/takizawa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You're only sleepwalking, dear Amon. Go back to bed..."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sleepwalking

The old floorboards creaked under Amon’s feet. They were slightly cool, even though it was mid-summer. He tiptoed quietly down the hallway, only excuse being that he needed to go to the toilet. Half asleep, he wandered slowly along the building and followed faint noises, which seemed to have lowered in intensity since the time that they'd woken him up. A shiver went down his spine, stopping when he had saw the dull light escaping under the door leading to Donato’s office.

Odd noises made their way to Amon’s ears and he thought he heard slapping or hitting. Maybe another child at the orphanage had been misbehaving instead of going to bed, and had been caught? He rubbed at his eyes, crusted sleep coming off the backs of his hands. Standing by the doorframe for a few minutes, Amon listened quietly as the sobs of a young boy grew louder, then silenced all at once. Something made a snapping noise from inside the office, with a chair's high scraping sound afterward. It must've been forced across polished stone tiles of the office.

Amon was frightened to meddle any more in the cause of these noises, lest Donato was inside and he too was punished. Although Amon had never seen his beloved Father Donato hurt him or any of the other orphans, he often wondered innocently. What had happened to some of the kids who never returned to their beds? They moved silently out of them in the middle of the night, in a need for the toilet or a simple case of insomnia.

As he moved onwards, quietly past the office door, something tearing wetly sounding from the gap under the door. Amon stopped in his tracks, as if his feet were weighted to the floor. It continued on and on and on, accompanied by the smell of something metallic, not quite right. Amon's heart thumped in his chest as the sound of something splashing echoed within the hallway. Heavy footsteps rapidly made their way towards the office entrabce, as if sensing Amon’s presence and moved fervently towards him.

Drawing in a sharp breath, he prepared himself to run, awkwardly stepping over his own two feet and tumbled to the floor. Hard wood sent jolts up his arms, where he had landed. Desperately, Amon forced himself to retreat hastily, back hitting the wall with a thud. At that moment the door swung open, with the familiar creak of the hinges that he had come to know as a young boy.

Standing ever so tall above him, Amon watched as his foster father peered intently with his quickly dissipating kakugan. A chilling grin stretched lips across the old, somewhat leathery skin of the “priest’s” face.

“Amon, child,” Donato cooed lovingly, his saccharine voice sounding more menacing with each syllable that passed over his tongue. “What are you doing up at this hour?”

No breath had seem to come to Amon’s lungs, voice trapped in his throat. “I – I’m,” he managed to stutter. “F-Father Donato, I c-c-couldn’t sleep...”

 The old man knelt down and his face was level with Amon’s. He placed a hand on the dark-haired boy’s cheek. Donato passed his thumb soothingly over the flesh, momentarily forgetting that the blood of a torn up orphan’s corpse was smattered over his fingers, where it had already seemed to start congealing. Amon didn’t dare glance past the Russian man, to where the dismembered limbs of a little boy lay hidden from sight.

“It’s okay, Amon, it’s okay,” Donato murmured. Standing up, he offered his hand and Amon took it apprehensively.

He allowed himself to be led back to his bed, where Donato had tucked him in. The ghoul regretted immediately that he didn’t dine on Amon’s flesh in place of the other orphan’s.

Donato had remembered to this time use his bloodless hand when executing fatherly actions, placing the clean one on Amon’s forehead. “Sleep, boy, it’s not real. You're only dreaming.”

Although Amon had accepted Donato’s excuses that night as he shut his eyes after watching the old man leave the bedroom, he wasn’t sure what to make of the dried blood which had crusted on his face come morning time.


End file.
